Smile
by EbonyKittyCat552
Summary: Isaak catches Cain in an unguarded moment and can't help but think this is the illusion he fell in love with


This is... well... it's angsty, I suppose... okay, it is *sigh*

Well, I wrote a happy second part to this sort of, so maybe I'll post that tomorrow

Warning: implied slash (if you don't know what that is look it up, cause it's not my problem if you don't like), uh... mentions of adult themes? Yeah... I think that's pretty much it

Disclaimer: Cain and Isaak don't belong to me *sniffle* They belong to Sunao Yoshida

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He doesn't smile very often, not a _real_ smile anyways. Isaak knows every single one of the fake smiles. He knows the one that crosses his lover's face when the fierce blonde is feeling horny, when he tracks down Isaak and corners him somewhere. Usually the end result of that devilish little smirk is Isaak being spread out all over some hard surface and fucked into it… not that he minded, of course. Cain was his lover, after all.

The smile his lover wears when he rips his prey apart is far more unpleasant. There was always a strange beauty about the crusnik in the heat of battle and bloodlust, a beauty that drew Isaak in like a moth to flame, that pulled him inexorably by some unbreakable, invisible thread. However, the beauty was deadly, and Isaak knew better than to get to close, lest he was the one to get burned… or fried, as it were. That smile, the quirky half-grin that exposed just the tips of his lover's glistening fangs is one he had seen often enough to know it like the back of his hand. Cain enjoyed the violence and bloodshed, and Isaak couldn't honestly say he was opposed. Nevertheless, fear was a constant beat in his chest whenever the crusnik was near to the surface, when his lover's eyes glistened red. After all, only a fool would fail to be afraid of such a creature.

There were times, also, when Cain wore an adorable little grin, just an upturn of his glistening pink lips that gave him an almost childish expression. Dressed up in his top-hat and white suit, Cain managed to charm and flirt his way through just about anything. Being short with him in that interesting false state of innocence was like kicking a puppy (one that would turn into a werewolf and rip your throat out if you weren't careful).

Isaak never failed to notice that these last smiles never reached his lover's eyes. If you looked up into his face, at his huge, watery blue eyes which pricked with tears and ignored his cutely downturned pout and fluttering pale eyelashes, you would see how cold their depths were. There was no more warmth there than one would find in the mid-Atlantic Ocean.

Letting his eyes flutter open, though, Isaak caught a sight that was new and, he had discovered, a rare treat, an exotic flower that only bloomed under perfect conditions. One of these, of course, being that no one else was around to see, he remembered wryly. The first time he'd witnessed it—just a bare glimpse of his lover's unmasked features—he's believed it to be nothing but his overactive imagination trying to conjure some emotion in the man he loved more than anything else, the man who, he was quite certain, could never love him back even if he _wanted_ to. Cain didn't love anyone, except perhaps his younger brother, his undeserving, childish, traitorous brother who didn't know what a precious gift he'd thrown aside.

But the second time had not been an illusion either. He wasn't sure what Cain had been thinking about at the time, but the glow of the firelight dancing off his pale skin had been breathtaking. Not as breathtaking as his _genuine_ smile. There was no smirk, no quirk in the lips or hint of fangs, nor any childishness whatsoever. It had been a pure smile, perhaps a touch nostalgic. It was enchanting.

Isaak had left without a word, knowing that, if he made his presence known, the smile would disappear as if swept away by an arctic breeze.

Through his dark eyelashes, he spotted that same shining smile which seemed to make his lover's face glow with a warm golden sheen. Cain's eyes were at half-mast, but the blue underneath his pale lashes was perfectly visible, endless and… warm. And tender. Tender was not something Cain ever was as a rule.

Gentle fingers stroked over Isaak's bare skin, sliding over his side and down the outside of his thigh. The methuselah struggled not to shiver beneath the touch. He didn't want to alert Cain to his wakefulness. In fact, he was quite content to observe his lover's distant expression, wondering what the crusnik could possibly be thinking about. If he hadn't known better, he'd almost think the crusnik was contemplating _love_.

He wanted to know, but at the same time, he didn't want to get his hopes up.

If there was one thing Isaak was, it was sensible. It would be delusional to believe for even a second that a monster like Cain could _love_ anyone. It was questionable (seeing as he'd tried to murder his _beloved_ brother and had succeeded in killing his other sister) that he could care about anyone at all.

Isaak was not foolish enough to believe that Cain would ever care about him as more than a fuck-buddy or a toy, a pawn to be used and disposed of when his time was up.

For now, though, he was quite content to lie here in the pale morning light and observe his lover's gentle face, a face he was still quite unfamiliar with. His time was ticking—every second, he knew, his demise grew closer to its due, like a rubber band stretching until it snapped—but he didn't mind so much now. He didn't mind using his precious time this way. After all, he might never get the chance again.

_What an overemotional creature you've become, Isaak. I didn't think you had it in you._

A small huff escaped his lips, a tiny sound of disgust at himself. It was ridiculous to let himself believe that this was a good way to spend his time, or that yearning after Cain Nightlord was in any way a good idea at all. All of this… it was just an illusion of his heart over his mind, illogical and irrational.

_That doesn't make it any less real._

He was just getting his hopes up in order to have them crushed by the very man who'd viciously murdered his protégé not long ago, the same man who had beheaded his own sister, who had killed his own beloved brother. It was just insane!

Opening his eyes fully, Isaak glanced back up at Cain. The crusnik, instantly aware of his probing gaze, moved his liquid blue eyes to meet his pawn's probing look. The smile that made him so radiant melted off his lips, which folded themselves into a look of pure seduction, a lie. His eyes were cold again.

Isaak just stared at him, imprinting this into his mind. _This is what he is, and this is all he'll ever be to you._

His mind accepted the fact readily, for he'd known it ever since the first time he'd been with Cain, his lord and master more than his lover. His heart, though, didn't want to accept it at all. It burned in his chest.

_You really _have_ become a sentimental old fool, Isaak._

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So yeah... I really love this pairing, but I write primarily angst and couldn't help myself

Review if you wish to


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